Cover art by Susan E. Elliott |
Fall of '33 takes us back to an earlier time
when Eva is only 12 years old, a passenger on a train headed for Django, Colorado.
She is deeply immersed in memories of the twenty days preceding her train ride,
recalling her life in Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains and recording them as the
train travels west. Her feelings are reflected in nostalgic descriptions about
her childhood; e.g., "A boy standing beside a Model A Ford near the tracks
waves as we pass. He looks about the same age as Billy, and our farm flashes in
my mind, as we drove away in Poppy's Model A…I see Billy the day after I knew
we were leaving. We were walking home from the bus stop. A hermit thrush
whistled from the woods, its hollow notes ethereal and flute-like. The long
shadows disappeared into deeper darkness. Indian summer, but the speckled red
and yellow leaves swirling past our feet reminded us that winter was coming…"
The train takes Eva
through vivid experiences to the Century of Progress World's Fair in Chicago,
across the Midwest, and into Colorado, but it is the journey in Eva's
imagination–the memory of her childhood home and stories told by her Grandfather
Poppy–that will capture readers. Eva moves in and out, from visible worlds
seen from the window of the train to invisible worlds, which her grandfather
explains are important for ancestral connections. "Memory is more than a
scrapbook of images," he tells Eva, encouraging her to connect with spirits "on
the other side of the veil" to bring about a change in consciousness. Readers
are led to believe that she will also receive consolation about moving from her
childhood home from ancestral spirits constant in memory.
Stories about
Eva's Native American ancestry and the mysticism inherent in these tales are
interwoven throughout the novel. They reminded me of an interview with Bill
Moyer and the poet Sherman Alexie, in which Alexie emphasizes how important "story" was and is for survival–in Eva's case, the story of her Turtle Island ancestors
who survived a great flood and intermingled with newcomers called "the golden
ones."
Each chapter title
of Fall of '33, or each day that
Eva writes about, is symbolized by a creature or force in the natural world; e.g.,
turtle, dragon, deer, the river, eagle, red bird, flower…the writing is an
assignment given her by Poppy in which she uses the "Day Memory System." Using
an image for each day, Eva faithfully records her observations about the
landscape and happenings in both the journey and her past life involving friends and
family on the farm and in rural social gatherings.
One of the most
arresting chapters features the family's venture into Chaco Canyon, New Mexico.
On this site, they view a circular ruin, fifty feet across and sunken fifteen
feet into the ground which was used as the center of religion for various
groups of Native Americans. "The sipapu
is this entrance, or passageway, for the souls to emerge from. And the souls,
the people, go out on the path, to the center. And when they die, they come
back. Out and in and back out again. Like the seasons…a middle place, a meeting
ground, where all souls come together..."
Past, present,
and future are represented in this complex novel filled with descriptions of
the South and West and the impressive narrations by two naturalists who aren't timid
about taking readers on a real life journey through dark times and a mystical
journey into the life of the spirit enhanced by "story," the stuff of survival.
A poem at the
conclusion of the novel completes this mystical journey into the Fall of '33, and the last two stanzas underline
the authors' intent to convey the power of dreams and imagination:
"instead
I dance
in a dream
with you
and all the time
in our world."
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